


on a whisper, with ghosts dancing after you

by lechatnoir



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25779994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: In which Andy is faced with ghosts who are no longer ghosts, Joe and Nicky carve out a home in the space between their fingers, Nile watches and whispers a hymn to herself, again and again.Or, the snapshots of some makeshift family in the making, and the return of one of the birds who they thought they’ve lost to the see years ago.Or, Quynh comes back, sooner than later.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 51





	on a whisper, with ghosts dancing after you

**Author's Note:**

> hi i've watched this movie 3 times already and haven't dived into the comics yet but I have a lot of feelings about these characters and Nile and i love them all. 
> 
> i'll be trying to update this as soon as I can ! 
> 
> you can find me on twitter : @requiempluie

I. 

Over the years, _home_ became something like a myth to them all. 

(Not Nile, she was too new to this, too new to be swept up in the ebb and flow of thinking about some things too hard, too new to be swept up in the muscle memory of blurring faces and forgetting the names of places that are no longer there, cities razed to the ground, swallowed whole by the gaping maw of a beast that does not leave any evidence behind, only fading memories that flicker and burn out like the embers of a fire.) 

The notion of a _home_ becomes a ghost on Andy’s tongue. She has not had a home since she lost Quynh to the ocean depths, a thought that creeps up in her head when she least expects it. She broke a promise, her time is slowly ticking to a stop, and all she has is a necklace that she holds in her hands and thinks of where she let her guard down to the point which had led to losing Quynh.

(She had told Nile, bloody and bleeding and in pain, when they were in Merrick’s office, sterile floors shining, and ragged breaths crawling out of her chest, that maybe losing her immortality meant she would remember how to feel _unbreakable_ and she has to laugh at herself for that - her immortality is gone, she can feel old ghosts creeping into her brittle bones, and there are days where she wants to set the world on fire in order find Quynh again.) 

Copley sends them out on missions and soon enough, they fall into familiar forms, dances and formations. Nile is a quick learner, still new enough to remember that heavy weight of the life ebbing away from a body after a kill - _that_ is something that Andy thinks won’t ever be erased from who Nile Freeman is, and for once, Andy sends up some sort of prayer to any sort of supernatural being who would be listening to keep this woman’s spirit intact for as long as she has time on this earth. 

One mission turns into two, turns into three. 

_Home_ feels odd on her tongue - she does not remember the home where she came from, does not remember the voices or faces of her mother and sisters - she thinks she can remember a flicker of _”home”_ , after finding Quynh all those years ago, as she collapses onto the couch in the safehouse that she faintly remembers Joe saying she “claimed” it, like a housecat. They had just returned from one of their latest missions, another job that was supposed to disrupt yet another power hungry organization or wealthy businessman set to find the next cure to the world’s problems through money and blood spilled. The weight of it all made her bone tired and weary, so down onto the couch she went, a sigh escaping her lungs as she closed her eyes and just _waited_. 

Before she had lost her immortality she didn’t have to deal with aches and pains that seemed to ebb and throb even when gunshot wounds healed - didn’t have to deal with what felt like a gnawing sensation in her bones. It’s the way that lying still on the couch or on the floor made her hiss sharply as the pain dispersed among her back, as if she was coiled tight and all the tension that had been coiled up in her bones was slowly flowing out of her. 

(It was worse on rainy days, where she’d down painkillers and grumble at Nicky, Joe and Nile that _nothing_ was wrong, she was just feeling tired. They called bullshit but let her sleep on the couch anyway.) 

She doesn’t remember dozing off on the couch, somehow the pain had made her lose focus and she had passed out after a while, only to wake up to her boots having been taken off and a old wool blanket thrown over her, the fire place in the safehouse quietly crackling and Andy watched the flames dance and jump around the wood for a while, and it felt nice. 

Nicky’s the one who checks up on her when she’s halfway to nodding off again and she has half a mind to snap at him not to treat her like she’s made of glass, but finds that she doesn’t really care, lets him shake her shoulder gently before softly speaking to her - she can read his lips, but doesn’t really get what he’s saying until he’s maneuvering her to sit upright and presses a cup of tea into her hands, warm and smelling of chamomile. “It’ll help with the pains, boss.” he says, kneeling in front of her, his hands framing hers as she stares at him and nods, accepts the soft kiss he presses to her cheek, and wonders if he’s always been this gentle or if it was something he had to learn how to manifest after spending so many years spilling blood with his sword. 

She wonders to herself just how soft yet calloused both of their hands are, drinks the tea, watches the fire crackle and hum, all while Nicky sits on the floor next to her solid and warm and _not a ghost_ , and Andy finds herself loosening up a little as the hours slip by. 

ii.

Nicky doesn’t remember when he dozes off, but the fire is warm and Andy is still breathing, the tea has probably gone cold now by now but he can’t really tell, only that he can hear voices murmuring somewhere above him in hushed tones as he groggily wakes up to see Joe’s face staring at him, a smile on his face. Nicky blinks a few times before stretching his arms with a groan as the muscles pop and he slumps forward a little into Joe’s arms, feeling him laugh warm and rumbling against where his ear is slumped against Joe’s chest. “Mm. what time is it?” 

Joe laughs again, cards his fingers through Nicky’s hair and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Just past 2 in the morning, you and boss were out cold, figured you’d want to rest after the last mission.” another kiss, this time to Nicky’s cheek and Joe looks over to where Andy’s sitting upright still dozing off, and there’s a tug in his chest as he watches her slowly wake up again, hard lines softened by just how _tired_ she looks. They’ve known her for years now, seen her when she was with Quynh, seen her after losing Quynh, there are no masks for her to hide behind, and they know this. 

“Boss, you should go to bed too, else you’ll wake up with a killer neck pain” Joe says, voice soft- comforting, like the rumble of thunder before a storm - and she nods blearily, gives a thumbs up before wrapping the wool blanket around herself like a cape and slowly eases herself off of the couch, shuffling towards her room in the safe house, towards a bed that will hopefully make this tiredness go away. 

(She tosses herself onto the bed and passes out again, feet hanging off the bed and the ghosts in her bones seemed to have settled for the night, for now.) 

With Andy successfully gone off to bed, Joe watches as the fire in the fireplace dies out completely, and moves Nicky around in his arms before pressing more featherlight kisses against his skin. “C’mon Nicolo, we should go to bed, unless you want to sleep on the floor?” he mutters, only to chuckle when Nicky makes a tired noise and says “I’m too tired to walk. Carry me?” and really, how can Joe deny him that? 

(He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Nicky in this sort of state - he’s spent his time studying every inch, slope, and gleam that flickers across Nicky’s face and body over the course of time that they’ve known each other. He’s seen Nicky full of rage and grief, full of jokes and sharpshooter wit, of gentle kindness that seems to be in an almost endless supply given freely to a world that does not, in Joe’s opinion, deserve it. 

But it’s been so long since Joe has seen Nicky in such a state like this, that he can’t deny him this.) 

With one last kiss, Joe shakes his head fondly and shifts Nicky around so that he’s carrying him almost bridal style, cheeks warming as Nicky buries his face in the crook of Joe’s neck and lets out a content sigh as Joe slowly carries him back to their shared room and pushes him into bed. 

There’s a quiet hymn that buzzes between the two of them - there always is, an unspoken dance between one heart to another - even after all this time together. Just as Joe’s about to wrap the covers around them both, Nicky pulls him in close for a kiss, slow and soft, in the hours of the night where it feels as if the night is only beginning and everything is wrapped up in a hazy film, but Joe can feel Nicky’s heart beating from where he’s had his hand placed on Nicky’s chest, tangible and _alive_ and he thinks that if he listens closely, he can hear the hymn that Nicky’s heart sings to his ears. 

(And he thinks, that it is the most beautiful thing he has heard in his existence on earth, and he wonders if it is this hymn that keeps the ghosts in his bone at bay every night that he listens, memorizes, and cherishes it.)


End file.
